


Satisfaction

by orphan_account



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Oral, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4348763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet is stressed out from work, and Wheeljack is the only one who dares approach him with a solution</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> GIVEAWAY PRIZE FOR [aliceewalicee](http://aliceewalicee.tumblr.com/) :D :D Hope you like it, and congratulations again ^^

_Ratchet was fiercely aggressive that evening_. A long day had worn away his patience and the other Autobots had the sense to avoid him or risk being on the receiving end of Ratchet’s backhand, which was known to be very heavy and firm. Wheeljack, however, saw a challenge where others saw a mechanical time bomb. It was his self-appointed duty to defuse Ratchet and he approached the task fearlessly and silently, sneaking closer from behind as the cantankerous old medic grumbled at the tools scattered across his workbench. 

Wheeljack wasn’t afraid of Ratchet when the medic descended into this particularly rich brand of sullenness. It actually excited him even more. Wheeljack’s interface throbbed keenly. Warm trembles seduced his charge. As soon as Wheeljack was within grabbing range he pulled on Ratchet’s hips, startling the mech as Wheeljack tugged Ratchet flush against his body, so he could feel the medic’s aft bounce when Wheeljack’s hands suddenly dipped into Ratchet’s groin and squeezed. Ratchet was overcome by surprise. He dropped the wrench he’d been tempted to swing at Wheeljack’s head, bracing his hands against the work bench instead and shoved his aft out with a growl,

“Wheeljack, what is the meaning of this?”

Every strong caress of Wheeljack’s hand flirted with Ratchet’s determination to keep his panel sealed.

“You’ve been in an oddly peachy mood today, doc’. Is everything okay?”

“Wheeljack,” Ratchet’s jaw was clenched solidly to seal inside any of the bizarre, needful sounds that threatened to impugn his self preservation when Wheeljack’s hot, moist breath lapped over the nape of Ratchet’s neck, “It’s been a long day.”

   “Are you all tense, Ratch’?” Wheeljack cupped Ratchet’s interface and shook it firmly, making the tumescent gear inside wobble. Ratchet’s face tightened and he cooed. Behind him he felt Wheeljack shift,  _squirm_ , in the carnal way that made Ratchet’s base instincts respond. His panel opened, spike pressing into Wheeljack’s hand and thickening. “Yeah, doc’ that’s it. You need to relax.”

The hand that had held Ratchet’s hip slipped further down, between Ratchet’s weakening thighs and prodded at the supple swell of metal that plumped up Ratchet’s valve.

   Without restraint, Ratchet thrust back and fore, fragging the tightly clenching circle of Wheeljack’s fist and shuddering each time two tentative fingers teased the twitching iris of his valve.

“You smell,  _unnf_  I can smell you, makes me want you,” Wheeljack panted, his two fingers slipping further forward, greased by the clammy heat of Ratchet’s thighs and playing slowly with his nub. Ratchet twitched, and wilfully indulged himself in pleasure, pushing more of his weight against Wheeljack’s fingertips as they explored.

Grinning, Wheeljack felt the tension in Ratchet’s body drain quickly to his spike, firming it up to palpable thickness as Wheeljack swiped the pre fluid off the tip of Ratchet’s spike and spread it down his girth until Ratchet’s spike was shining and slick.

“So what’s up, Sunshine?”

Ratchet growled his frustration. It wasn’t a discussion he needed now and he thrust his spike quickly into Wheeljack’s hand. Wheeljack chuckled. He could appreciate that some conversations were best left until later, and to ensure Ratchet knew Wheeljack was content to proceed, Wheeljack mopped up the generous ooze of lubricant drooled out of Ratchet’s valve and pushed it back into medic’s wildly clenching heat along with his fingers, massaging Ratchet’s passage and tempting the valve mesh to pinch around his fingers as Wheeljack teased sensitive internal traction.

As the arousal weakened him, more of Ratchet’s weight rested on Wheeljack’s chest until he was wholly dependent on his support, and that was when Wheeljack pushed his fingers in deep, pressing as close to Ratchet as he could and then stilled. He felt Ratchet’s spike burn in his idle hand and the medic groaned with desperate need.

“You’re getting close already, old mech, look at you,” Aside from the copious amount of lubricant eking down Wheeljack’s wrist, he gave Ratchet’s spike a shake and watched the growing collection of pre fluid gathered around Ratchet’s lurid tip flick across the work bench.

“W-Wheeljack,” Ratchet stuttered, craning his face to longingly peer across his shoulder as tension made his aft get tighter.

Slowly, and so softly, Wheeljack curled is fingers in Ratchet and made the medic’s knees shake.

“Not yet, greedy mech.”

With devious intentions, Wheeljack withdrew from Ratchet’s body, and while Ratchet was still whining with his mouth open and flecks of drool seeped past his lips, Wheeljack grabbed Ratchet’s hips and spun him, so that Ratchet collided with the work bench. It was so sudden Ratchet fought for breath, and as he wheezed, Wheeljack got onto his knees.

Ratchet was nearly helpless. As if every support beam in his body melted under the warm kiss of Wheeljack’s lips curling over his spike.

Wheeljack had first lapped up Ratchet’s thighs, leaving a trail of tender suckles and marks across the enamel before coating Ratchet’s spike in oral fluid. With every whimpering sound Wheeljack sucked out of Ratchet his grip on Ratchet’s thighs tightened, pinching and pulling him closer as Wheeljack slurped past the head of Ratchet’s spike and with a heavy breath, took more in of Ratchet’s girth with determination.

  Ratchet’s hands first fell to Wheeljack’s shoulders, possessively pulling on them, their broad shape suitably strong to endure Ratchet’s heady, uncontrolled desire.

“Frag me!”

Wheeljack granted Ratchet some space, letting the medic slowly pump his spike in and out of Wheeljack’s stretched lips, pressing further on each stroke with Wheeljack doing nothing more than moulding is tongue to the underside of Ratchet’s girth each time he engulfed it and Wheeljack’s head filled with a particular musky scent only Ratchet had.

Moaning, Wheeljack’s body was doll-stiff and pliable, and in his lust to bring himself closer to that _scent_  that made his whole body throb, Wheeljack swallowed Ratchet’s spike.

Ratchet’s hands shot to Wheeljack’s head, thumbs rubbing the ribs protruding on Wheeljack’s fins and guiding Wheeljack’s head as it inched closer. When his nose was finally poking into Ratchet’s metal the medic twitched and Wheeljack inhaled another pungent whiff of his own personal aphrodisiac

As the tension roiling in the pit of Ratchet’s guts curled tighter he started rocking back and  fore on his heels, Wheeljack started to taste overload’s static approach crackling across his tongue.

Humming, Wheeljack eased back, swiping his tongue across the livid swell of Ratchet’s transfluid slit.

Boneless, Ratchet stumbled back, collapsing over the workbench and his spike stood straight and bulging, wrought with keen sensations and tingling in the cold air.  

“Fuck!”

“Whoa now, wouldn’t want innocent little ears to over heard  _that,”_ Wheeljack chortled, but was fully committed to wringing out the worst of Ratchet’s filthy mouth as he brought the hot, blunt head of his own spike to touch Ratchet’s rapidly pulsing core, dragging the tip through the liquid torrents of lubricant, prefluid and sweat forming fat pearls across Ratchet’s interface.  

“Now, Wheeljack,” Ratchet sounded almost delirious as he rolled his head back and when Wheeljack refused to enter the medic got impatient, forcing Wheeljack to pin his hips to the desk while Wheeljack took his pleasure.

Ratchet coming undone was a sight worth savouring, his carelessness and beastly need to be fragged making Wheeljack’s spike twitch as he handled himself and smoothly pushed into the tightly clenching pucker of Ratchet’s valve.

Ratchet lurched, one hand seeking to support his spike as it swung freely, so full and thick it ached, and palmed himself with languid pressure as Wheeljack slowly breached his valve and stuffed every inch of himself inside Ratchet’s hot, needy body.

“That good, Sunshine?”

Ratchet’s tenacity had been seduced, he didn’t have the will to chastise Wheeljack when he was being made to feel so good.

“Mmm,” Ratchet’s body fell slack for a moment, then Wheeljack started to rock them, his spike cleaving into Ratchet smoothly, splitting open Ratchet’s wet passage and aiming for the back of his valve with force that made the desk quiver under them.

Ratchet threw away his restraint, he squeezed Wheeljack between his thighs even tighter as the crest of his charge verged on unbearable and Ratchet’s cheeks filled with heat.

“That’s it doc’, play with yourself, go on, y’know I love seein’ you do tha’,” Wheeljack sounded out of breath, as if the heat creeping through their bodies was having an effect on him too, pushing unbridled pressure into his spike making it feel so full it threatened to burst.

Ratchet’s mouth gaped and his chest heaved, his eyes were hooded and blank to anything but the pleasure of tugging on his spike and swirling his fingers over his damp nub that had swollen grotesquely with an endless supply of pounding charge.

When Wheeljack attempted to move, Ratchet’s valve squeezed all around him provoking an early squirt of fluid to ooze out of Wheeljack’s spike and he fought to refrain from releasing the rest. It was a struggle, Ratchet’s valve was intent on juicing out Wheeljack’s overload and Wheeljack had to grit is teeth with determination until he felt Ratchet start to tense around him and the sounds of climax became desperately apparent.

Ratchet’s hands stilled, his feet curled and his valve clenched so tight he vaguely heard Wheeljack groan as Ratchet shot transfluid all over his stomach and fresh lubricant made the puddle under his aft grow. He was too overcome by afterglow’s heady tonic to be ashamed of their mess. Distantly, he felt Wheeljack twitch and finish inside of him, adding to the wetness that trickled out of Ratchet’s aft.

When Wheeljack fell on top of him, Ratchet had the air knocked out of his chest. Beneath their combined weight the work bench groaned its disapproval, but Ratchet’s spark was humming, his charge was warm and pleasant and he couldn’t care less about anything.

Wheeljack exhaled noisily against Ratchet’s chest, his breath shaking as it escaped his lungs.

“Feelin’ better, Doc’.”

Ratchet grumbled tiredly, his optics feeling too heavy to bring online.

“Much better, I needed that.”    


End file.
